Out of the Ashes
by whimsicalwhispers
Summary: A pre-epilogue story about Katniss and Peeta helping each other move on from the events of the last few years. I'm not sure where this is going, other than eventually, I'll end up at 'You love me, real or not real' 'Real.' On hiatus until I can get past writers block.
1. Chapter 1

_Hey everyone. This is my first ever fanfiction, so I hope you guys like it. It's set post-rebellion pre-real-or-not-real, documenting how Katniss and Peeta grew back together. I'm going to stick to the book as closely as possible, but I might change a few things to allow me some flexibility. I don't really have a major plot in mind, so I'm going to go along with wherever this road takes me. I've been inspired so much by all the authors on this site, and since this is my first story, I am getting so much inspiration from other stories. I'm trying really hard to make it completely original, but it'll take me a while to get my feet. I hope you bear with me if this story seems too similar to others. I'm trying so hard. Other than that, there's not much else to say. It would mean the world if you would review it, I eagerly await both criticism and praise. _

_I, unfortunately, do not own The Hunger Games (well, I have the books, numerous pieces of merchandise and loads of other things,) nor any of the characters introduced in this story. All credit goes to Suzanne Collins._

Those primroses that he planted. That _he _planted.

I can't get _him_ out of my mind. I lie awake that night, thinking of him. How he came home, and the first thing he did was do something to help me. He lost his whole family, yet he still chooses to honour Prim first. It's his trademark selflessness. It's like he can tell what will make me feel better, before I've even thought of it myself. A stone monument would be wrong. Prim wasn't cold, and still. She was beautiful, and sweet and as precious as a flower. What he did, it was the perfect gesture. It makes me think that maybe he will get better, properly. Maybe the torture the Capitol inflicted on him will lose its potency. Maybe we can be friends again, without endangering ourselves because he breaks out into another fit. The thought of him at the hands of the Capitol makes me shiver with dread and guilt again. _My fault, _I think. _All my fault._ The guilt infuses me, filling me with despair, with shame. He suffered so much for me, but gets so little in return. _I can't give him what he wants._ I reason. I don't want to form close ties with anyone anymore. Not with how much I've suffered because of the loss of loved ones. My whole family has been torn apart by loss. Ever since I was eleven. I can't afford to get that close with anyone again. It will just hurt me in the long run. This, I am certain of. Yet, I still can't get him out of my mind. I remember the way his muscles flexed in his arms, with each push into the earth. I remember the way his muscles felt, wrapped around me in the darkness, shielding me from the awful nightmares that lay beyond. And part of me, a small part of me craves for that to happen again. For the safety, and protection I felt. For the comfort it brought me. I fall asleep, the rift between wakefulness and sleep merged into one, as I drifted off. I dream of nothing but him. I dream of him chasing me through the streets, no longer the kind, caring Peeta Mellark, but the evil Capitol created Mutt version of himself. His arms are ridiculously long, and his mouth full of gnashing, sharp teeth. I dream of him in the first arena, dying in front of my eyes while I watch, unable to save him, unable to do anything but beg and scream and cry. I'm not sure which one scares me the most.

It's morning when I wake, the sunlight streams through the open curtains that I never bother to close. I burrow under my covers, not wanting to get up, not wanting to see anything, or anyone. Why should I have the privilege of living, while so many don't? Why should I live, while so many that I love, can't? My father, Rue, Cinna, Mags, Finnick, Madge, Prim, and so many others. Why is it that we live in such an unfair world? It's one of my bad days. I hear the sounds of people waking up, going out to work. I don't move. I hear my phone ring as Doctor Aurelius calls to see how I'm doing. I don't move. I hear people come back near the end of the day. I still don't move. I don't even move when Greasy Sae comes and knocks on the door to see if I'm alright. I'm not. She goes away after a while. I hear Haymitch yelling at me to get up. Doctor Aurelius must have called him too, and let him know I didn't answer. If he has called, they'll all know I'm having a bad day. I don't move. It's quiet for a while, then I hear my door open, and someone enter. They come up the stairs gently, and pause outside my door.

"Go away." I order the person behind the door. Instead, they enter and I find myself staring into the blue eyes of the person I've been longing to see, but dreading to meet. Peeta.

"Doctor Aurelius wanted someone to check up on you. Haymitch was a bit drunk, so he told me to do it. I hope you don't mind?" I study those soft, gentle eyes, searchingly. He's lost the sparkle that he had before the Games, but he's also lost the mad, grief stricken look that I saw in him the last time. I nod numbly.

"I'm fine. I just want to be left alone." Peeta smiled.

"Sometimes your own company is bad for you," he says, mimicking Doctor Aurelius' voice. "It can make you think things that aren't true, but seem true to you. You need to be with someone until you get rid of the negative thoughts." So this was a well-used line for Peeta as well then. He holds out the bag he was carrying by his side. "I brought you some cheese buns," he continues, "I thought you might be hungry." He smiles. "You still like cheese buns, right?" Not even two days back in the district and he's already l looking out for me. It's so totally like Peeta that I can't help but smile a little, and nod. "Well, I'll leave them here, I guess, and make sure you eat them. I'll pop around tomorrow and see how you are, if you like?" He turns away, and suddenly I realise what he was saying.

"Don't leave." These words spill from my mouth before I even notice they were forming. He freezes, and something in me tells me that I was in danger. _He's turned mutt!_ I shriek silently to myself. But as he spins around, I see a small, genuine smile on his face which tells me that maybe he was hoping I'd ask him to stay. Maybe was in need of company as much as I was.

"Sure, okay. If you like." He comes and perches on the end of my bed. The voice in my head is screaming at me. _If you start to care for him, something will take him from you. It will only cause pain in the end! _I argue with myself for a while, and reassure myself that I won't get too close. I know the dangers of loving someone all too well. But I've lost the will fight. I'm exhausted, drained and in need of comforting. Out of the three people left alive who could provide that comfort, one of them is sitting on the end of my bed. Why should I let it go?

We spend hours, talking. Nothing deep, of course. We're not ready for that kind of thing. I'm not sure if we ever will be, but we speak of day to day life, what's going on in the districts. We move onto different topics quickly though. Even though we're careful, it wouldn't take much to open a pathway that would be painful for either one, or both of us. I try and stick to my earlier promise to myself, not to get too close. I try to make it clear that all I want is a friendship, and I don't want to get too close to anyone, and I think he understands. Maybe I was imagining the cloud of sadness that passed over his face, and the pang that I see in his eyes as watches me when he thinks I'm not looking. If he's still got that same Peeta in him, the same one that he had before the Capitol got hold of him, then it might be hard for him to accept it. I don't care. He'll just have to.

When he leaves, I'm in a much better mood. As always, the gentle, sweet, caring boy who could make you believe anything he wanted you to believe, has spun me a web of words that comfort me and make me believe that everything will be alright. He's made me believe it for a short time, even though I could see in his eyes he only half believed it himself. It's then I remember he's just as damaged as I am. Maybe more so. But all the same, maybe it's not too late to hope that, little by little; we can rebuild a friendship out of the destructive thoughts, the pain of loss and the memories of the past. Maybe we can heal. Maybe we can build something out of the ashes of despair. But it's an awful lot of maybe's.


	2. Chapter 2

_Hey guys, this is the next chapter, obviously. I'm not too pleased with it though. I kind of do sort of know where I'm going, I've planned a few things. The only problem is going to be linking those events with suitable chapters. This is one of them. I'm really sorry if it's rubbish. Please, feedback would be great. I would love to know what I can improve. Also, I'm not sure if characters are believable. Reviews would mean so much. Enjoy._

I haven't left my bed for the whole day, and I don't plan on changing that. The furthest I go is sitting and leaning over the edge to get the brown paper bag that Peeta left. I feel the warmth emitted from the buns as I dig my hand in. He must have baked them specially. The need for someone's love and affection hits me again like a brick wall. Peeta is back here, despite everything that's happened to him because of me, he's come back here to be with me. And all he's going to meet is a shield of protection around my fragile emotions. I don't want to have to rely on anyone ever again I don't want to feel the bone crunching pain of loss. Never, ever again. I'll avoid it at all costs. I've already had far too much of it. For the first time since Buttercup arrived, I find myself dissolving into a pool of tears. _No more crying, Katniss. _I tell myself firmly. _You promised._ But I can't stop the flood of emotions that come at me in a storming rage. I can't even tell what some of these emotions are. Some sort of twisted happiness that someone in this world still cares enough about me to come back, when all the others I had cared for had abandoned me; he was the only one who returned. I feel sadness, as much as I may want to, I can never risk me being incapacitated with pain like I was after Prim… I never want to have a family. I never want to love again. I can't give Peeta what he wants. By the time I've wrung myself dry, it's morning. I slip out before anyone notices, and flee to my safest haven. The woods. My feet follow the path that's been ingrained in me since I was little. Before I know it, I am knee deep in the lake and sobbing. This is the moment that I accept that I can and will never get over the deaths of my sister, and everyone else around me. No matter how hard I try, their absence will always hurt me. I will never fully heal. I have to live with this hole.

"I miss you so much." I speak to my surroundings, I speak to my memories. I speak to the people I never had a chance to say goodbye to. I turn, and I almost see my father, smiling down at me as he collected a nest full of eggs from a tree. "I wish you could see me now." I whisper to him. "I wish you could come and hold me. I wish you were here telling me it'll all be alright." A tiny voice in my head strains to be heard, _there's someone else to tell you it's going to be alright. _It tells me. I ignore it, even though I know it's true. I see Prim, laughing with Rue with their heads bowed together whispering excitedly. "Prim." I say. My voice catches and tears spill out of my eyes. "I'm sorry I couldn't save you. And Rue, I'm sorry too." I shut my eyes, trying to block the wave of pain the passes over my body. When I open them again, the figures have gone.

"Sorry." I whisper again, to the empty air. Then I turn and wearily head back to the district. Instead of taking the path to the Victors Village, I find myself turning towards the town square. I haven't been this way since I arrived. So much has changed since then, though. It looks cleaner, more cared for, some people actually look happy. So much has been rebuilt; the square was the first to be repaired. I can't help but marvel at the efficiency of the people who have worked on it. They've done so much, in so little time. After a moment, I retrace my footsteps back to my house. There's a fresh loaf on the table. I smile slightly as the fragrance reaches my nostrils. I break a bit off and inhale the steam. It smells so familiar. _It smells of how Peeta smells_ I realise with a jolt. The pang in my stomach shoots up through my chest as I remember my face pressed up to his chest, his hands on my back. _Stop. Stop now. You've made your decision. Just friends._ I reprimand myself severely. But that memory lurks in the back of my mind, never far from popping up suddenly. I want to see him, but I'm not going to go over there myself. I'll wait until he comes here. I don't want to make him think that I need him. After what I told him yesterday, it will only give him mixed signals. I sigh, and collapse onto a chair by the fire. He must have lit that too. For a time, I just stare into the flickering, dancing flames, hypnotized. I hear Haymitch's geese honking as he fed them. I must have fallen asleep on the chair, because I am woken my the sound of clattering plates. I look up and see Peeta laying out plates. I yawn and stretch and he looks over.

"Morning," he greets me. I nod at him and amble over to where he stands. "Breakfast," he gestured to the small rolls he's laid out on the table.

"Thanks," I say. "They smell delicious. He doesn't stay to eat with me though. He seems kind of distant and disconnected. I let him go without a word, even though there's a small place in my heart that is begging me to ask him to stay. I go and sit in the sun for a while, until Haymitch approaches me.

"What do you want?" I ask suspiciously. He would never come to see me for idle chit chat.

"He had another flashback last night." He answers. As ever, he is blunt and quick to the point. My heart chills.

"What do you mean?" I ask numbly. "I thought he was cured of that. I thought the Capitol cured him, and that's why they let him come back." Haymitch sighs and drops down beside me.

"They let him come back because they couldn't do anything else for him. They thought that the rest of the healing he would have to do on his own. "

"So, why did he come back then? Why did he come back to district 12? If I'm here, he would have so many memories to trigger it." I whisper.

"Sweetheart," says Haymitch, using the term of endearment as he always had, sarcastically. "Despite everything you've done to put him off, he still actually cares about you. Anyway, he is getting better. He's beginning to control himself." I know that Peeta still cared for me, but hearing Haymitch practically say that he didn't know why Peeta still cared for me stung me. "He still needs help though," Haymitch continues. "He still has memories that aren't real." Though he doesn't say it, I know he's telling me that I'll need to be the one to sort out these memories. He leaves then, and drunkenly totters back to his own house. I look over at Peeta's house. In one of the windows, I can see a shadow moving about. I can't do what Haymitch has asked. It will be so painful for the both of us. How can I explain everything to him, without making it seem twisted and cruel?

"Oh Peeta." I sigh.

I don't bring it up again for weeks. I try and avoid Peeta as much as possible by spending much more time in the woods. I know that this will only confuse him more, but in my selfish head, I don't care anymore. We fall into a kind of routine, Peeta's there when I wake up, with some bread he baked; I tolerate his company, and be as polite as possible until he leaves. Then I grab the bread and my hunting gear and make for the woods. I spend the day there, not hunting, not thinking, not doing anything. I've found a way to deal with the pain that's always there, just ignore it completely. Float away in a balloon. When I get hungry, I forage for food. Berries, fruits, roots, nuts. It's all there. I contemplate running away and living in the woods like I was prepared to do last year. I wouldn't be running from danger, I would be running from helping someone. This revelation leaves me empty and hollow. I am selfish, thoughtless and useless. Haymitch was right. After everything I had done to hurt Peeta, he still came back. I don't know why either. One of those days, when I return after dark, I see the lights in my house on. I dread seeing Peeta, but when I open the door, it's not him, it's Delly.

"Delly!" I say in surprise. I hadn't seen her for ages.

"Hi, Katniss." She says. "Look, I'm sorry to bother you, but it's about Peeta." I freeze.

"Is he alright?" I choke. Delly waves her hand impatiently.

"He's fine, but…" she sighs. "Look, Katniss, I know that you two have kind of a painful history with each other, but he needs you. Right now, he's so confused. He's got all these memories of you, and he's not sure which ones are Capitol made, and which ones really happened. He's trying so hard to get better, but the thing he really needs is to be able to know what happened and what didn't. I've tried to help him, but I can't answer some of his questions. So much of his confusion is about you. You have to go over yourself. You need to talk to him and help him. He can't do this without you." I'm momentarily stunned. Delly had never been one for anger, but she was almost yelling at me by the end. Her words cut like knives. It's the truth, I know it's the truth. Haymitch knows it's the truth. Tears start leaking out of the corners of my eyes. Delly's face softens. "I know it must be hard, I know what went on between you two… Haymitch said I should know, if I was going to help Peeta back in Thirteen. He's my friend, Katniss. I'm the only thing he's got from his past, his family are gone, and he doesn't have anyone else apart from you. I just hate seeing him like this. Just try to help him." She puts a hand on my arm.

"I'll try." I whisper at her. "I don't know how though. How can I do it, without making it more painful for the both of us?"

"Be truthful." She advises, and leaves. I sink to the floor, and rest my head on my knees. I always knew it would have to come to this. I knew I couldn't avoid it forever. Delly was right, I was all he had and, sometime or other, I was going to have to get this over with. I just wasn't sure I was ready.


	3. Chapter 3

_Hello beauties, the next chapter for you. I hope you enjoy it, and once again, feedback and constructive criticism would be really lovely. Or you could just say how amazing I am, and how I'll be the next Jo Rowling and how I've got such skill and how I'll be a millionaire when I become a world acclaimed author etc. Anyway, I would love to hear your thoughts, and please, please tell me how I need to improve._

I can't sleep that night. Then again, I haven't slept much for ages. It's always been interrupted by nightmares and memories, and most nights, I haven't had any sleep at all. I can't remember the last time I had a decent night sleep. _Yes you can, _says a voice in my head, and an image of a train pops up. I quickly shove it from my mind. Instead, I toss and turn and think about what I'll have to do tomorrow. _Maybe I can out it off until another day? _I ask myself. _No, otherwise you'll never do it._ I tell myself firmly. _What are you afraid of? _I ask myself angrily. _You aren't afraid of caring, you're afraid of losing. _I answer. _Delly's right, I am the only thing he's got. Maybe you should stop being so selfish and try to help him. He's the only thing you've got as well, Katniss. He's the only person who can understand what it was like, he's the only person who can help me get better. We can help each other, but it's you, Katniss, who has to make the first step. _Delly's words have cut me to the bone. She may not have meant to, but she's pointed out the fact that, while I still have my mother, Peeta has nothing, and yet I am doing nothing to help him. Once again, I reverse our positions. He wouldn't be running off to the woods each day, leaving me to pick out the bits of my life that actually happened. He would be helping me, building it with me. I am so worthless next to him. _He doesn't deserve someone like me. _I think to myself bitterly. I hope he finds someone who loves him back. _Help him. _I order myself.

By the time morning comes, my eyes are puffy and red with lack of sleep and I have dark rings around my eyes. I step into the shower and stand, letting the hot water rush over me, calm me. I leave my hair out to dry, and make my way over to his house. I knock gently, and when there's no reply, I push the door open. It seems empty. I make my way into the kitchen. There's flour and dough everywhere.

"Peeta?" I call out tentatively. I hear noises upstairs. "Peeta?" I call a little louder. I make my up the stairs quickly, suddenly worried he's hurt himself. I find him in his studio, his fists balled around a sheet of paper. His face is strained and damp with sweat.

"Get out, Katniss," he hisses through clenched teeth. My mouth opens as I realise he's fighting a memory. _It worked once before._ I tell myself, and approach him slowly. "Katniss, go, before I hurt you."

"Peeta, it's okay. It's not real." I tell him gently. I reach my hand out to catch his. I clasp it tightly. His eyes squeeze shut and he starts shuddering. "Don't go." I tell him quietly. He takes deep, shaky breaths and releases my hand.

"I could have hurt you." He says after a while.

"I want to help you." I say in reply. He doesn't say anything to that. If I'm going to help, I'll need to start now. "I'm sorry, I know I've been selfish –"

"Don't bother." He says shortly. "I know you don't want to talk. You're not ready, are you?" I look at my hands. He gets up and starts putting paints back in his box. _He doesn't trust me anymore. _I realise. I don't blame him. For the past couple of weeks, I've been avoiding him, he probably doesn't even know why. I need to win his trust back. I don't know why, but this hurts me. I've always taken it for granted that he'll be there every time I turn around. This makes me realise that I am far more selfish that I could have thought. I hate myself for it. I look up, and for the first time, I see his pictures. As ever, they're amazing. Some, I don't recognize, others choke me up with sadness, like the one of Mags smiling as she wove something from a rope. I point to one with a long white corridor with doors on either side of the walls, there are two human silhouettes at the end.

"What's this?" I ask. He barely glances up.

"It was in the Capitol. They walked me down it every day to –" He cuts himself off suddenly. "You should go." A stab of sadness pierces my heart.

"Okay." I stand and make my way to the door, "I want to be friends, Peeta." I say as I pause in the doorway. "I'm sorry." As I walk away, I know I really, really mean it. Friends, I can deal with. I can't be anything more though. But again, there's that part of me which really misses him. I hear him pack things up more forcefully as I leave.

The next morning, he's there when I wake up. He seems better today. He gives me a smile, and an unexpected rush of warmth surges through me.

"What's for breakfast?" I ask. He slides the bag over the table nearer to me. I look inside. The smell of cinnamon wafts enticingly upwards.

"They're new," he says with a smile. "I've been trying out different recipes. I think it finally works." I lift one out and bite into it. The crust hard and tough but inside, it's soft and sweet.

"They're really lovely, Peeta," I say enthusiastically.

"They've asked me to run a new bakery." He says after a while. I look over at him, he's frowning slightly. "There weren't many people who came back to district twelve, and most of them are reconstructing the town. They're finding it hard to provide food for the workers." I nod.

"Sounds like a good idea."

"You should go hunting." He suggests quietly. "I'm sure they could all use the fresh game." I pointedly ignore this question. I can't go hunting without – I banish the thought from my mind.

"When do you start?" I ask instead.

"I'll start baking today. They said they'll make me a proper bakery soon though." He leaves soon after. I can't get his words out of my head. Hunting. How could I go hunting without my partner? It's unthinkable.

I do go, though. I go hunting for the first time since I got back. It feels odd without Gale to watch my back. Having to listen out twice as hard, having to look twice as long. It feels wrong. I manage, though. I shoot a couple of pheasants and a squirrel and find a bush of nuts. The haul isn't as good as I would have got if – I sigh and force myself to think of other things. One of the major things about my recovery is not dwelling on the past. Not thinking about the 'what ifs'. It's one of the hardest things for me to do, but one of the most important, he says. On my way back to the Victors Village, I drop the game off at Greasy Sae's. She's genuinely pleased, and thanks me profusely. She asks if there'll be any more to come soon. I shrug and turn away, but I know I will. She gives me a bowl of broth to take home, so I stop off at Haymitch's house to see how he's doing, he'll need it more than I will. I haven't seen him in a while. I find him stone drunk on the floor. I haul him up and dump him on the couch, leaving the bowl of broth next to him, if he wakes up, he'll see it. He grunts and turns over. His clothes are filthy and everything stinks. I leave before I throw up. I let myself into my house and dump my bags by the door. I consider eating, but rule it out immediately. It's then that I realise I've been on autopilot the whole day. Just getting things done without thinking about them. I've been trying to block out memories and carry on without breaking down again. I sit for a while, staring at the flickering flames that taunt me as they dance. They are fierce and wonderful, majestic. There's nothing fierce or wonderful or majestic about this broken girl. The girl on fire is no more. Her flames have been extinguished, just like the hope and happiness she once knew, once, a very long time ago. A time when she was safe and happy and young. There's a knock at the door, bringing a sharp end to my trail of thoughts, and Peeta enters.

"I saw you go hunting." He says. I nod. "Are you okay?" he asks, I see the concern in his blue eyes. It must show that I'm having a bad day.

"I'm fine." I answer brusquely. He holds a piece of paper out.

"I did this, I thought you might like it?" he asks tentatively. I take it and study it carefully. The emotionless autopilot breaks down. Tears pool in my eyes.

"It's amazing." I whisper hoarsely after minutes of careful scrutiny. "How do you remember all this stuff?" The picture shows my father, laughing with Prim on his lap. The detail is fantastic. I study my fathers face. It's so real, so, him. The smile wrinkles under his eyes, the dent in his chin. Some of this stuff I only remember because I see it in front of me now. Those smile wrinkles, how could I ever forget those smile wrinkles? "I forgot about these." I sob, as I trace them on the page.

"You like it, then?" I look at him, the tears spill out onto my cheeks.

"I love it." I get up and place it on the shelf with the rest of the items I treasure, next to the book with all the plants in it. Suddenly, I have an idea. "Peeta, I never want to forget anything about them ever again," I say. He comes over to me.

"Nor do I."

"We should make a book." I say. "Like this one." I pull the plant book out gently and flick through. "So we never forget." I look at him. He's frowning thoughtfully. "You could paint them." I say, warming up to my idea. He looks at me, his blue eyes boring into mine.

"I think it's a wonderful idea." He says quietly.

Doctor Aurelius sends a thick book filled with blank pages. When Peeta comes over that evening, he's got a pile of paintings and drawings.

"I thought we could put some of these in." he says, setting it down. The top of is of Lady and Prim. I nod numbly.

"Why did you do all these?" I ask quietly. He looks away.

"When I get nightmares, thinking of good things helps me." he says after a pause. We spend the rest of that night filling in the pages with memory after memory; there are tears, of course, but not tears of grief. Tonight, these tears are caused by remembering happy events. Not sad ones.


	4. Chapter 4

_Eek, this chapter is not very good at all! I'm really not sure about this all now, and I wish I hadn't started! I'll carry on though, but gah, I'm sorry that it's not very good. So, you may have to wait a little longer for the next chapter, I'm not sure if I can update every day now, because I have a lot of ideas, but they all need to be sorted into the right order etc. Anyway, once again, please review and tell me what you think. Honestly. I won't be offended if you don't like it, but I would love to know why you don't like it so I can improve. Much love._

"I've brought some more game." I say to Greasy Sae as I hold up a small deer and a turkey. She looks over and grins.

"That's a good haul, those lads there will have a good old meal out of all that." She says pleasantly. She sets down her sewing with a sigh. "Not enough material." It's taken a while to get all the districts back up and running, and there's been several shortages in the past. The shortage of cloth has been the worst though. "We've found nothing, it's all been burnt up and useless." She tells me, referring to the scavenger hunts to look for the new cloth. She gives me a bowl of broth and I gulp it down hungrily. I set the bowl down and look up at the sky. The clouds are thickening.

"Looks like it'll start raining soon." I say, "I should probably get going." I hop out of my seat and, with a last wave to Greasy Sae, head off back to my house. It starts to pour down when I'm halfway there. I run the last couple of minutes and shut the door just as a bolt of lightning splits the sky in two. I'm soaking wet.

"Shower time." I say to myself. I make my way upstairs, and, as I pass the door that hasn't been opened since I came back, an idea forms. I pause outside the door, thinking hard. _Can I do this?_ I ask myself silently. I am better now, I have better control over everything, perhaps this will help my healing process on. Packing everything away, closure. Maybe it's time. I I take a deep breath and turn the handle slowly. The pain that hits me as I walk in is so intense, so terrible. I give a small shuddering gasp. Prims room is exactly how I remember it. All this time I've been back, I've never had the courage to sort through it. It feels like I'm walking in slow motion as I walk over to her wardrobe and open it. I close my eyes and take a deep sniff. It smells of her so strongly. I can't stop the flood of tears that overflow from my eyes.

I cry for the next couple of hours, as I try and sort through her clothes. Most of the material is good enough to be reused, I can't bear to give it away, but I can't bear to see it again. In the bottom of her wardrobe, I find a crumpled piece of paper. Slowly, with trembling fingers, I unscrew it and look at the picture. My heart splits as I see Prims usual stick men on the page, I see a family of four, with a label underneath, 'our family', it says. I recognize the figures, small yellow haired Prim, me, a surly dark eyed figure and a smiling mother and father.

I don't know how I end up curled up in her wardrobe, but the small, dark, enclosed space comforts me, protects me. The pain I feel is so real, so fresh, and so incapacitating. I don't know how long I stay in there, I don't come out for anything. I don't feel like living anymore. The loss of Prim, of my father is so fresh in my mind, it's as if it happened yesterday. The fact that my mother isn't here to help me, to hold me, to comfort me makes me feel so much worse. If it were I who had died, she would have come back to be with Prim, because Prim needed her. Maybe my mother didn't know that I needed her too, even if I didn't show it. Again, that's proof that you shouldn't care for someone. Rely on no one, need only yourself.

Eventually I hear people calling my name. I don't answer, I don't make any movement whatsoever, not even when a blinding light hits my eyes as the doors open. I feel hands pulling me out, gentle, comforting hands and rougher more sudden pulls from another person. My tears still haven't ceased, my whole top is soaked. People are talking to me, trying to coax food into my mouth. I ignore everything. I don't feel like doing anything anymore.

"Eat something, Katniss," I hear people say. I recognize their voices, but I don't want to know. I retreat to a special place in my mind which I haven't been to since Prim died. I can block out everything here, no one can reach me. When I emerge from my mind, I'm in my bed. It's dark, and I hear voices outside.

"The doctor days her progression has completely backtracked." I hear Haymitch say. "Everything she's managed to do, all the control she gained has gone. It's like she's back at the beginning again."

"How?" Asks another person, Peeta.

"Doctor Aurelius says it's caused by emotional trauma. That picture she was clutching, it brought back too many memories and emotions she's tried to lock away." I hear him sigh.

"Will she be alright?" asks Peeta. The concern in his voice is obvious. I tune out after that. I refuse the numerous pills and liquids that people try and force me to take. Somewhere in me, I don't want to get better. I want to disappear, I want to fade into nothing. Maybe that's the only way to escape the never ending pain properly. Just to fade away into nothing. Maybe death is better for me.

Sometimes I come out of my shell. There's always someone with me. Usually it's Peeta, he tries to get me to eat, I refuse. After letting him in, even just a little bit, and then feeling like this again has just reinforced what I've always know. I will never, ever let someone in ever again. I tried with Peeta, and now I'm feeling that pain again, the pain that stops me from moving, thinking, breathing. I'm in that place I was when I came back to district twelve. The whole leap of progression; being able to function again, being in control has gone. Just disappeared. And just like that, the hard earned ability to live my life has vanished. It took less than 5 seconds. _Just like how long it took for Prim to disappear, _whispers the voice in my head. Then I go further into my mind. I have another enemy to list. Myself. I hate myself for letting it happen. I hate myself for not demanding her protection. I hate her for going, I hate everyone.

The months and months of effort to get to this place has been wasted. Obviously I hadn't healed as well as I thought I had, if such a small thing can render me useless again. I start to sleep again, and this time the nightmares come back with vengeance. Not that they ever really went away, but they're worse. I can't move in them. I am suffocated by my grief, bound up by my depression. It stops me from being able to fight the demons in my head.

It's after one such nightmare, I'm with my father in a garden, and we're happy, until he starts running away from me in anger. "You killed her!" he yells at me, pointing to a picture of Prim. "You killed her!" he repeats. I wake up drenched in sweat and tears. There's no one at my bedside, so I slip out from between the sheets. There's an apple beside me, but I feel sick just looking at it. I have no idea how much time has passed since I had that breakdown. I can't remember the last time I got out of this bed. I make my way over to the window and breathe in the soft, cool night air. I hear Haymitch's geese honking gently in their sleep. _It would be better for you to just die._ I tell myself. _No matter what you do, how far you go, you are never more than a couple of steps away from this place. These things you are feeling will never, ever go away. You know that, don't you? You tried to make yourself think that it had gone, that you had healed. You believed you were healing, but look at you now. You're back where you started, _says the voice inside my head. It's true though. After all those months of slowly feeling better, I had begun to think that I was getting over it, that maybe I would be able to live a normal life without being haunted. I was wrong. My current situation was enough proof to tell me I would never, ever live a normal life.

I know that it's got so much worse when an all too familiar face appears at my bedside, only days later. I know he's not happy to be here, I can see it on his face, I also know he's worried for me, I can see that on his face too.

"Well, Katniss." He says tiredly. "What's up with you?" asks Doctor Aurelius. I don't answer. I never do. He tries to talk to me, but I never listen, his advice is useless to me.

"Why don't you have a go at talking?" he asks me one day. It's not the first time he's said it either. "Why don't we play a guessing game then? I'll try and guess what you're feeling, and why you're feeling it, and you nod if I get it right." _I'm not a child. _I want to yell at him, but I don't. He starts. "You're sad because you miss your family," he states the obvious. "But there's more, isn't there? There's so much more to you, Katniss. You were getting so much better, you were in control. What made you so exposed?" He muses. "I can't help you unless you talk." I'm not going to tell him anything. Letting him into my head would be a sign of trust, and trusting someone is the first step of becoming close to them, and if you're close to someone, you start to care for them. I won't let anyone in. I've always had to be independent, and this will be only slightly more than what I once used to have. "You can talk to me, Katniss. I'm here to help." I ignore him. I know why I am back to where I am. I let someone in, I started to trust Peeta, and that left me exposed. I won't make the same mistake twice.

He tries for days and days. They give me pills to help me, to dull my emotions, but I learnt the hard way that when you start to feel again, you only hurt worse than before. They give me food, intravenously, but it doesn't help. I've lost the will to live. You can't keep a person who wants to die, alive. You can postpone it, but it is inevitable. I don't want to live anymore. I just want to die.


End file.
